a tiny shift
by minorxcrisis
Summary: What if Alex Rider saw the Rorschach test in a different light? How would that change his future with SCORPIA and MI6? continued from the Rorschach test in book 5. My first Fanfic, pls R & R. thanks!
1. Chapter 1

"So Alex, what do you see?"

Alex Rider stared at the card held by Dr Steiner. The Rorschach test. He knew he was supposed to interpret the blots on the card in his own perception, but the blots simply looked like... random ink blots. A gigantic blot in the center of the card, with a series of smaller ones by the side; a circle with an object attached or pointed to it...hell, it could be anything ranging from a splash of paint to a deflated football.

"It looks like a deflated foo..." Something stopped Alex from completing his statement. He glanced at the card again, strangely unsettled.

_A circle with an object pointed at it... the circle solidified, giving an appearance of a three dimensional ball—a person's head... with a gun pointed to it. Features formed on the head and suddenly, Alex was staring into the resigned eyes of the late General Sarov just before the gun went off. "Goodbye, Alex..." _

Alex gasped involuntarily. Abruptly, the fog in his mind disappeared and he was back in Dr Steiner's white-washed examination room.

"Something wrong, Alex?" Dr Steiner queried, looking concerned.

"N...Nothing. Can we skip this card first? Please?" Alex pleaded. Dr Steiner frowned slightly, but graciously let it pass. "All right then," he fished out another blotted card.

This card was no better than the first. Alex' first impression of it was a man with a backpack flying through the sky, but as he looked, the man's face morphed into Conrad's terror-filled scarred face as the numerous metal plates in his body were attracted to the strong electromagnet and _he flew straight into it, crushing every bone in his body...then suddenly Conrad's face was replaced by Damien Cray's horror-etched face as he was wheeled off the plane... _

"No! Stop!" Alex cried out as he was forced to relieve his worst memories.

"Alex? Alex!" Dr Steiner snapped his fingers twice, once more pulling Alex out of his delirium. "Alex, is there anything you'd like to tell me?" Dr Steiner gently cajoled the stricken boy.

"I...I..." Alex was fully prepared to launch another big lie, but for once, he hesitated. Why should he lie about the awful images he saw when his entire life was already one big lie? MI6 had taken everything away and fed him with one lie after another, which he in turn, had fed to his friends, distancing all his relationships. Hatred and determination welled up deep within him. No, he would not be MI6's pawn again. This time, there would be no more lies, no more deceit.

Alex calmed himself and drained his face of all emotions. "On the first card, I initially saw a deflated football, but a moment later I saw one of my more... unfortunate memories—a man who shot himself in front of me. The same thing happened for the second card, only this time the memories of the dying scenes of people I had killed for MI6 were revoked." He was relieved to find that his voice betrayed no hint of emotion.

Dr Steiner nodded thoughtfully. "I see. What about taking a breather? I'll postpone the vitamin booster for now. You are in pretty good shape already; perhaps it's not that necessary. Now off you go."

Alex gratefully took his leave, giving little thought to the contemplative eyes latched on his retreating figure.


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N: Thanks a lot for reviewing and giving suggestions=) Hope i'll be able to continue writing on=)**

**- deets1: thanks for telling me about the disabled anonymous reviews, I didn't realize they were disabled. I've enabled them already=)**

**- snowflake13300: I'm trying hard not to make it a one-shot!**

**- Sapphire2309: ok thanks for your suggestion. I shall change it to K+:)**

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><p>"... Rely on your instincts completely. No matter what you see or feel, a target is a target. He or she is just another living organism, another job that is necessary for your survival. He is your enemy, because if he lives, you cannot and vice versa if you live, he must not..."<p>

Weapons instructor Gordon Ross repeated the words as the students took turns to fire shots at the numerous red and black targets that popped up along the underground shooting range. The shooting range was narrow but long, with gleaming handguns of all shapes and sizes adorning the walls from top to bottom. The handguns ranged from 14th century traditional hand cannons to the newest, off the shelf models. Simply put, it was an assassinator's sweetest dream—if they even did dream, which Alex rather much doubted (how else would they be able to sleep at night?).

Alex found shooting to be a rather relaxing activity for him. While MI6 had refused to give him firearm training much less provide him with a gun on missions, they were practically an assassinator's best friend. Scorpia ensured they were point blank accurate with every shot and knew the mechanisms of every weapon. He found pleasure imagining each target as a lie that MI6 had fed him, an unpleasant memory that he had been forced to live with—blackmail into working for them, _Bang, _his parents' death, _Bang,_ Mrs Jones as she gave the command to shoot, _BANG. _

Ross walked over to him and observed silently from the side. He was in his early thirties, and extremely well-toned with a mop of sandy brown hair and piercing grey eyes.

"Not bad at all, Rider. You're advancing thrice as fast as the average student here, and that's saying something. I expect great things from you in time to come, just like your father." Alex felt warmth tingle through his body at the unexpected compliment. MI6 would never have said anything like that. They were just too arrogant to admit that a mere _boy_ could do just as well, perhaps even better than them.

Well, it was time to prove each and every one of them wrong, Alex silently vowed revenge.

"Since you're almost proficient at shooting targets, I think it's time for you to move on to targets a little more... _challenging_." Ross grinned as though Christmas had come early, handing Alex a SIG-Sauer P220. "Let's see if you're up to it." He pressed a well concealed lever by the side of the wall.

Alex concentrated hard on the seemingly blank wall before him. Anytime now, the targets would appear, presumably twice as fast as usual.

A blur of movement from the corner of his eye.

Alex whirled around and aimed at the target, but found that he was unable to shoot. It was no longer a bull's eye target. Instead, an image of a young girl with blonde curls had its place. Just a target.

It disappeared just as quickly as it had appeared. Alex had completely missed the target. Another one shot up. This time, it was a middle aged woman in a business suit.

"...your enemy..." Ross' words resounded in his head. Anger ignited in Alex. Grown-up, mature _adults_ had destroyed his life, MI6 at the very top of his list. There was no way he was going to let them off.

He let his instincts overtake him and fired.

...

Mrs Rothman sat calmly before the webcam. Or at least, appeared to. It had been a trying day for her. MI6 had intercepted an important payment transaction and confiscated several million dollars. True, it was a small sum compared to what they would earn from invisible sword but that did not mean she didn't treasure her gold. However if her instincts were right, Alex Rider might be worth much, much more.

"Well, how's progress?" She demanded crisply, straight to the point. Olivia d'Arc, principle of the training centre contemplated her question from the computer screen. "He's doing well." He said at last. "A brilliant boy, excelling in all the subjects and well liked by both instructors and students. If we had a dozen more of him and Gregorovich, we'd have an unstoppable army." "The tests?"

d'Arc sighed, lines creasing on his forehead. "That's where the main problem comes in. I cannot tell if he will turn out as a... fully functional Scorpia operative. Let's talk about the Rorschach test. Dr Steiner informed me that there are 2 cards that all the students in this training centre have identified as one—a person lying in a pool of blood and a gun pointed at a person's head. However, Mr Rider is a slight exception. His first response to the card was not as such, but when he glanced at them a second time he was vividly reminded of the people he had disposed because of MI6."

Mrs Rothman frowned. "And your point is...?"

"I cannot confirm that he can be a cold blooded killer like all our other students. He does have a killer instinct, but it seems only to manifest under certain circumstances. For instance, Ross informed me that at the shooting range this morning, Alex, as usual, performed extraordinarily well in regular target practice. However, when they switched the bulls ring targets to human targets, things got interesting. Alex faltered at the very beginning and missed the first target- an image of a young girl but performed exceptionally on the next target, a middle aged woman—scored an eighty percent in fact. This queer pattern followed on – he either missed or performed badly when the targets were children, but had no qualms shooting the adults."

A pause. "Did Dr Steiner do it?" "Not yet. He wanted to seek your advice on this peculiar case. I must say though, if we are able to provide the boy with a suitable environment and give him a nudge in the right direction, he would be very, very useful. Economically as well, of course."

Mrs Rothman tapped her fingers on the table, lost in thought.

"Julia?" Another long pause. Then she smiled, having come to a decision.

"Don't do it...yet. Let's give Alex a chance to prove himself. Send him on a mission after 3 more months of training. Have him assassinate _Blunt._" She spat the name out. The MI6 head had been a thorn in her side far too long.

d'Arc nodded sharply. His face fizzled and disappeared and the computer screen went blank.

Julia Rothman leaned back in satisfaction and smiled, revealing perfect pearly whites. The boy would turn out just the way she wanted him to.


	3. Chapter 3

**A/N: Hello! sorry for taking so long to post this chapter. It's been a really busy week. I hope to reach the climax soon!**

**Thanks a lot for all the encouraging reviews, special thanks to reviewers who have been faithfully reading and commenting on the story! If any of you have suggestions for the story development, please do tell me=) I may adopt the suggestion.**

**Sapphire2309: thanks for telling me about the spelling errors. I'll try to make less spelling errors=)**

**Sajna18: whoa! we're thinking along the same lines haha!x)**

**AzraelLilith: haha We'll see xD**

**Hope you enjoy this chapter!**

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><p>Alex Rider bent over, panting heavily.<p>

"16 minutes 3 seconds. Not bad at all, Alex. You beat your old record by a full minute." An ecstatic Max Chenay informed him, hardly breathing hard despite having run the entire 3 km route with Alex. The training coach seemed oblivious to the half-dead state he was in.

"Just another round of push ups and we'll be done!" He announced cheerfully.

"Come on, come on, don't be such a couch potato. Push up position, Down!" Alex groaned but complied.

Somehow, he managed to pull himself into the position, his trembling legs threatening to give way. He knew that Chenay had a soft spot for him and treated him like a younger brother (albeit being an overly sadistic older brother), being the youngest student at the training centre and an extremely fast learner.

Sadly, Alex's potential all the more gave Chenay reason to push Alex far, far beyond his limits. If only Chenay was called away for a mission right now! Sadly, Alex doubted the overly enthusiastic instructor would be kind enough to allow him some slack even when he was away. _Probably instruct me from a web-cam, _he thought wryly.

Just then, gravity defied itself as a student hurried over.

"Sir? The principal would like to see Alex in his office now." Alex glanced up sharply, utterly shocked. The principal wanted to see him? _him_? Not Chenay?

Chenay looked rather upset that he was unable to carry out the last segment of his training torture.

"All right," He said reluctantly at last. "You may go."

Alex got up and hurried off, hardly able to believe his luck.

"Don't think I'll let you off so easily! Double push ups tomorrow!" Came the amused shout from behind. Alex sighed.

"I wouldn't dare think otherwise." He muttered under his breath.

"What was that? You wanted more?"

"No! No! I didn't say anything!"

...

Alex thankfully escaped to the principal's office. Chenay could get downright scary at times. However, as he knocked on the door, his relief was abruptly replaced with pangs of unease. Why would the principal want to see him? Had he done something wrong or perhaps, done poorly in a subject?

Alex chuckled at the thought. Different school genre, same old school dynamics. Even in a school of assassination with subjects such as shooting and (deadly) botany, passing a subject was of great importance, if not more. An inaccurate shot could miss the heart and a dose of deadly poison could result merely in paralysis instead of instant death.

"Come in, come in." Alex entered the room uneasily.

d'Arc sat at his desk, clearing a stack of paper which nearly reached his shoulder. Seeing Alex, he grinned and gestured at the chair opposite him. Alex sank slowly into the seat.

"Ah you're here, Alex. I suppose you're wondering why I requested to meet you. I need to talk to you about something of utmost importance."

Alex felt his stomach churn.

"Sir, did I fail a subject? Are you planning to expel me?" He couldn't help blurting out.

d'Arc's eyes widened a fraction and he doubled up laughing.

"Oh no, no,no. You most certainly did not fail any subject. Quite the opposite, in fact. You ranked among the top 5 overall in the academy, which was why I called you here today. Your excellent results indicate that you are more than ready to begin your very first mission."

A mission? Alex slumped back, shock written across his face.

"Erm, am I a bit young for a mission, sir? What if, what if I screw it up?" He asked weakly.

"There isn't such a thing as too young to start," d'Arc said firmly. "And I have absolutely no doubts about your ability. Look at it this way, if you saw a teenager in an office building in the middle of the night or a full grown man in the building, who would seem a greater threat to you? The impertinent teenager who probably broke in on a dare or the adult who probably knew what he was doing, perhaps stealing important documents?"

Alex couldn't help but agree. It did make sense. The younger you were, the less people would suspect that your capability and experience. Alex of course, had proved that the theory was utterly wrong.

You see, you are an important asset to us, and not to worry, unlike MI6, we will pay you what you are worth. Besides, take it as a chance to prove to us your capability as a_ true_ Scorpia member." Alex could feel d'Arc's intense gaze boring into him at the last few words.

"After all, you won't be doing it all alone. You will be assigned a mentor to guide you through your very first task."

Alex relaxed a tad bit. " Sir, may I ask who wil— "

_Knock knock knock_

"Ah, here he is. Come in. Let him answer your question by himself," d'Arc smiled, a strange gleam in his eyes. He checked his wristwatch. "And right on time to, I must add. Though I would expect nothing less from you..."

The door swung open.

Alex froze, his blood turning cold.

"...Yassen."

...

Halfway across the globe alone in his office, Alan Blunt head of MI6, gave a rather uncharacteristic growl into his cup of coffee.

He was _not_ having a good day. Nor would he have one for the entire month, it seemed.

First of all, an entire football team along with their coach had just been completely eliminated by.._.nothing._ Somehow, Scorpia had managed to crawl past MI6's intense security and caused their deaths without a single gunshot.

Thanks to invisible sword, or so Scorpia had called it, the entire office was running around in panic and the Prime Minister had ordered him to settle the problem in a month. A_ Month._ How was he going to solve it in one bloody month? So far, the only thing discovered abnormal of the bodies of the football players was the content of gold in their blood. Was he supposed to get a lead from _gold_?

To top it off, MI6 most valuable asset had disappeared almost a month ago. Alex Rider had last been seen entering a suspected Scorpia training centre near Venice. The boy was irreplaceable in MI6. His successful missions had saved the world several times already. To think that he had now lost him to Scorpia...

Blunt sighed inwardly. If he knew how Scorpia worked well enough, the boy would probably come for revenge. He wiped his sweaty forehead and picked up the phone.

"William, put me on to Mrs Jones. Mrs Jones? Alan blunt here. I will be increasing security twofold for you and speaking to Smithers about the possible would be the most likely target. Yes, yes. We'll see in time." He put down the phone and picked up his organizer.

He was scheduled to speak at Brookland School a week later. Just his luck to get roped in by the Prime minister as part of the security education to convince parents that schools were not under threat in spite of Scorpia's threat. He snorted. As though MI6 would be able to do much for now if Invisible Sword was released.

No matter. At least he had settled the security for Mrs Jones. He was quite certain MI6 would be able to reel Alex Rider in when he attempted to assassinate her. Oh yes, everything would go according to plan—as always.

For the first time in 20 years, Alex Blunt made a deadly wrong assumption.

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><p><strong>Please R &amp; R! thanks=D<strong>


	4. Chapter 4

**A/N: okok so sorry I know is a super long overdue chapter...**

**Yup enjoy it, and do continue to R and R so I can improve!=) Thanks a lot for all the encouragement so far=)**

**I may be on temporary hiatus til after mid October cos of this super irritating thing called EXAMS.**

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><p>Blond hair. Pale blue eyes and skin. The graceful poise and lithe built of a dancer. A trademark scar running across the length of his neck. The unmistakable air that screamed <em>deadly <em>

Yassen Gregorovich looked exactly as Alex had last seen him—shot twice in the chest, only this time, he was _alive_.

Alex sat frozen, staring at him with wide orbs, completely incapacitated. After the incident, he had suffered from recurring nightmares which forced him to relive Yassen's death again and again. And now Yassen stood before him, alive, breathing and well, if not looking a little more ragged and tired than usual. His mind went into overdrive.

"Good to see you back in action, Gregorovich." d'Arc stood, smiling. "I shall leave the two of you to make your acquaintances."

Yassen gave him a slight nod and glanced at Alex.

"Alex Rider." He acknowledged simply. "We meet again."

Alex closed his eyes, refusing to believe the ridiculous delusions his mind must have conjured.

"I was asked to see the Principal, got my wish to escape half a morning of training, was told to get ready for my first mission, and now a dead person has come back to life. Oh yeah, I am definitely dreaming." He opened his eyes.

Sadly, a very much alive Yassen Gregorovich filled his vision again instead of disappearing as he had hoped.

The corners of Yassen's mouth jerked up very slightly but he said nothing.

"How can you still be alive? I saw you being shot in the chest by Cray. Twice." Alex questioned unsteadily in a hoarse whisper.

Yassen hesitated a moment. "I _was_ shot. But the fool must have missed out on a few shooting lessons. He missed the heart by two inches and gave me a punctured lung. Also, did you think you were the only one with a bulletproof vest?" He asked blandly, with the slightest hint of a smirk. "I managed to escape by means of an experimenting built-in parachute in my jacket, which fortunately, worked. The rest you can figure out yourself."

Silence reined.

"Alright," Alex finally controlled his overwhelming emotions. "Let's say, let's say that I am not a raving lunatic and you miraculously managed to survive 2 gunshot wounds and a plane crash. So you will be my mentor for my first mission? What happens now?"

"Now, we receive our mission guidelines." Yassen replied, somehow producing a sleek black laptop and placing his finger on a concealed fingerprint scanner.

The screen burst into life and a monotonous female voice resounded through the room.

"**SCORPIA international, Restricted zone. Level 8 pass.**"

"Agent #Triple Zero Cossack. Code 15-16-AG –HN-26-10-NJ-NY. Voice activation: Kazak." He spoke fluently, staring straight into the built in webcam in the laptop. A shimmering blue light scanned his pupil.

"**Access granted. Welcome, Agent Cossack."**

Anticipating the question before Alex even had the chance to ask, he explained: "Regular missions are usually dished out by d'Arc, but for convenience on the go, I usually retrieve mine from here."

He turned back to the laptop. "Mission summary; open file."

The disembodied voice spoke again. "**Mission summary. Freelance, one man assassination job under Mentor guidance. Date and time: 30****th**** September year 2011, 1200 to 1500 hours. Preferred weapon: semi-automatic handgun. Location: Brookland School. Mission details: Target is scheduled to give a public speech on security in British schools in Brookland School auditorium from 1300 to 1400 hours, followed by the presentation of a token of appreciation from Brookland School Principal to the target. Mission objectives: Agent is to carry out assassination of target during presentation of token of appreciation. Get in, get the job done and get out as quickly as possible. Do not get caught at all costs. Mentor is to follow closely but minimize interference in mission. **

**Target: Alan Blunt, Head of MI6 Operations. Read separate files on analysis of Blunt and surrounding security, Brookland school compound infrastructure and area map. Printer located, printing.**"

The voice stopped. The only sound that broke the deafening silence was the rumbling of the printer as it printed out the corresponding mission files.

Alex could hardly believe his ears. They wanted him to assassinate Blunt; _Blunt!_ And at his old school, _Brookland_! He suddenly thought of Tom. Would Tom be there as well? And Jack, what would she say about this?

Yassen retrieved the printed files and handed them to Alex. "The speech will be in 5 days will be leaving for London the day after tomorrow so get ready to start packing." He stared at Alex intently. "Are you up to it?"

Alex felt panicky. How could he kill another person willingly? Would he be able to do so in cold blood? And... what would Jack and Tom ever think of it if they were present to witness the assassination?

Suddenly, all the doubts in his mind disappeared just as quickly as they had appeared. He felt strangely calm and blank of all emotions. To kill... it seemed just as easy and reasonable as taking a step forward. Especially when the target was someone who had made his life hell. Dark waves of revenge lapped at him. Anyone else was pushed out of the picture; their opinions did not matter in the field of assassination and revenge.

Alex answered in a voice rather unlike his own—cold, indifferent, assured—just like the assassin before him.

"Oh yes."

Yassen was silent for a few minutes. Then he spoke in a voice so soft that Alex could hardly hear him.

"I was doubtful of my killing capability at the start too, but I felt nothing after my first assassination. You'll get used to it soon as well."

He turned and headed for the door.

"Wait!" Alex cried. "Why? Why did you choose to join Scorpia, to kill?"

Yassen's hand paused briefly at the door and he spoke without looking back.

"It is my destiny, as it was your father's and now it is yours. After all, young Alex, don't you agree that the enemy of your enemy should be your friend?"

He walked out of the room, leaving the question hanging in the air.

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><p>Tom Harris slammed his bedroom door shut. With a swift movement, he slid on his earphones and tweaked the volume to MAX. His parents had unfortunately visited at the same time and what had been a tense dinner soon developed into an explosion. The two of them were now down in the dining room hollering at each other, in the process of trashing the room. Fortunately Tom was experienced enough and well prepared for such an occasion. He had headed back up to his room with an extra helping of supper the moment he felt the tension rising towards a breaking point.<p>

Their quarrels didn't really bother him as long as they didn't involve him or his brother.

He sighed. Ever since Alex had disappeared once again, bad things seemed to have happened continuously to him. So far, his winning streak on the soccer field had been so off that he had managed to lose a crucial semifinals soccer match; he had been warned to pass all his exams or he would not be allowed to continue sports and now, his parents had turned up at the same time. How joyous.

It was pouring outside and the cold breeze snuck into his room. Tom shivered. Once again, there was this ominous feeling he couldn't put a finger on. And it definitely had something to do with Alex. As ALWAYS. He chuckled at the thought. Alex attracted trouble as though he was wearing a bright neon pink 'bite me!' tag.

"Just please don't get yourself into unnecessary trouble, Alex." He muttered. But even as the words left his mouth, there was this niggling feeling at the back of his mind that Alex was not the one in trouble this time.

Somehow, it seemed as though _he _was the trouble.

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><p>The London Heathrow airport was busy all year round, 247. A global hub for communication and connection from all over the world, it was also a major terrorist attraction. Security had been tightened further after Scorpia had disposed an entire football team seemingly without lifting a finger.

The passport officer at counter 6 was new to his job. He was rather jittery and still nervous after a month's tryout but enthusiastic and eager. At the moment though, he was starting to regret his choice of job. The tense atmosphere and heavy security around was enough to keep him on guard at all times. If possible, the airport was busier than usual that week as many flights had been delayed due to some power cuts. Exhaustion was beginning to catch up with him.

He stamped another passport. "Next please!"

A middle aged man and his teenage son sidled up. The man had smooth tanned skin and a neat mustache. He wore diamond studded dark sunglasses and an expensive business suit. Theson was basically a small sized carbon copy of him. Dark sunglasses and equally expensive clothes though much less formal and a large smirk and attitude to top it off. Oh yes, he definitely knew this type. He could almost feel his ears hurting before they even reached him.

"...Couldn't even have a good sleep on that damn flight! What kind of bloody service...Dad, you should seriously tell them off!" The irritating whinny soon reached his ears.

"Mind your language, son." The father responded mildly, handing the officer the passports.

Hector Jerome De'quedar. Keith Hector De'quedar. Quite fitting names, he thought, repressing the urge to roll his eyes. The passport stated that they were from Greece but had flown constantly in and out of America.

The boy turned his attention on him and rolled his eyes dramatically. "Another one trying to act all big and manly," he blatantly insulted the officer right in his face.

The officer was smoking sulphur by now. Damn that politeness rule in his airport service rulebook! He shoved the passports back at the pair, shooting daggers at the youngster.

The boy removed his sunglasses and slid them into his pocket as they left. "Goodbye, _officer._" He sneered, glaring deep into his eyes.

The officer let off a hot puff of air as the pair disappeared. He was so annoyed by his bruised ego that he nearly forgot something very, very vital. Nearly. The boy's eyes as they stared into his own... there was something very familiar about the electricity they held. Not the eye colour, but the strange _maturity _he saw in them. He ruffled through the papers scattered on his desk until he saw the right one. The poster which had been given to everyone working in the airport by the British intelligence.

Alex Rider. 14 years old, British. Fair hair and serious brown eyes, quite good looking. Wanted for connections with terrorists. But it was the eyes which made him certain. They may had been a different colour but the same intense gaze was there.

He picked up the phone, knowing he was a little too late.

"No wonder his attitude sucked."

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><p>"Slow down, Slow down! I value my life, thank you very much! Look out!"<p>

Yassen simply ignored him and turned another corner at breakneck speed, throwing Alex against the car windows— Alex was very much certain— on purpose.

"I always thought you were sadistic, but never imagined violence at this standard!" Alex muttered, shooting him a dirty look.

Yassen raised an eyebrow.

Alex sighed. "Anyway, why did you make me remove my sunglasses? He probably recognizes me by now."

"You're supposed to be intelligent. "

Insulted, Alex turned chose to stare out of the windows instead of the infuriating killer. The answer struck him a second later.

Alex grinned. "Not bad, now we can wait for them to panic and raise the security levels."

Yassen nodded, driving the car. "Exactly. Their security measures will now be in plain sight for all to see. Anyway, get your cover ready. We're reaching the hotel in 3 minutes."

"Thank God!"

The car swerved dangerously again, leaving behind a half-hysterical stream of colorful language.

* * *

><p>Monday morning was a gloomy affair. Still, the grey clouds and light drizzle did little to deter the large crowd that gathered at the Brookland School auditorium. The possible threat Scorpia had issued hung over the anxious crowd like a mood dampening cloud.<p>

"...and so I urge you all not to worry unnecessarily. Scorpia is indeed a threat but we are more than ready to neutralize this threat and protect the civilians to the best of our ability and resources." Alan Blunt droned and paused. "Thank you, and have a good day ahead."

The crowd clapped politely as he turned to receive a token of appreciation from the principal—a bear wearing the school uniform. Of course, it would eventually find its way to Smithers and either come out as an all-new disguised hand grenade or suffer the sad fate of being blown up by accident. Either way, he did not really care, though he would very much rather it ended up as something useful. There was so much else on his mind. Alex Rider was now in the country. His heart clenched. He had to get a hold on that boy before he did something stupid and ended up on national news.

And those blasted reporters. Always hungry for information and scoops. Already, he had had to shut several of them up before they blurted something unforgiving. At least, for now, the teenage spy Alex Rider would remain under wraps. Hopefully his agents would have captured the boy by now. After all, a 14 year old teenage boy couldn't possibly fight off 10 trained adults, could he?

Blunt took a single step down the stage warily. Strange, it his body seemed almost reluctant to listen to him. "It probably knows I'm about to be stampeded by a hundred reporters or so," He muttered. True enough, already the reporters were swarming towards him, as though he was a magnet attracting iron filings. The security guards were doing a flimsy job keeping them away. After all, the best ones had been sent to protect Mrs Jones and he was left with these blubbering second rate idiots. It didn't matter, everyone who had entered the auditorium had been thoroughly checked by the guards.

"Sir, Sir, What is your view on the—"

A brown haired woman thrust a recorder in his face but a sandy haired man with a huge camera slung over his shoulder pushed her away. He had a youthful face, freckles and bright green eyes shielded by thick glasses. In fact, he didn't seem older than 17. Reporters must be starting younger nowadays. He was saying something, but his voice was drowned out by the hundred other questions yelled at him. The boy moved closer until he was right next to him, almost speaking into his ear.

"Sir, what do you know about the teenage spy, Alex Rider?" The words, barely coherent caught him like a deer caught in the headlights.

Alan Blunt whirled to face the boy, who slid his glasses off his face. The same Intense gaze and slight smirk he would recognize anywhere.

Then the side of the auditorium exploded inwards. A large jagged hole appeared along the right wall. Debris and plaster rained down as the audience and reporters screamed. Everyone made a hysterical dash towards the main auditorium door. Even the guards were stunned for a moment. An explosion not large enough to kill, but powerful enough to create a major distraction.

_From me_, Alan Blunt realized. Even in such a situation, his mind work to analyze. He swung back to face the boy but he was gone.

He was a little too late.

A millisecond later, a bullet slammed straight into his heart.

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><p>Alex twisted the handle of the gun and fitted it back into the professional camera as he smoothly slid back into the hysterical crowd. The security guard had barely glanced at it when he went through the bag check, snapping pictures of the vicinity. It did work as a camera, but it had an extra compartment to fit a small handgun. A single bullet, but that was enough. Alex had almost perfect aim.<p>

He looked back at Blunt's body. A couple of horrified guards surrounded the body, desperately checking for signs of life.

He had not felt any joy killing the man, but it was something, something he had to do or he would go stir crazy, moping in lies he was living on.

Alex turned and broke away from the crowd, heading to the open hole in the wall. There was too much security at the doors. He broke into a jog. Yassen would be waiting for him in the car a street across. He had planted the explosive earlier. There was no time to waste.

Just as he reached the hole, someone lunged at him.

* * *

><p><strong>Hmmm my chapters seem to be getting longer. R and R pls!<strong>


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